Clay
by Scarlett Jaimie
Summary: OK, what is this? This is pure fluff and smut with some Mediterranean sauce over it. Read, enjoy, but don’t tell me I did not warn you! Oh, and it is set some ten years after the ending of the book.


**A/N: Somewhere by the end of the Summer I lost a bet with one of my fellow writers. If she lost, the outcome would have been something amazing, instead me (and you) got stuck with this. It goes without saying that I will never bet again…**

**_CLAY_**

'Capitano, was it Signora Butler that made you head for Georgia every time we returned from a run?'

'What can I say, Massimo; I am afraid that I was drawn to her like a magnet to a razor-sharp blade.'

Scarlett, who had only been listening to the two men's conversation with half an ear - thinking the spectacle that took place underneath their balcony much more interesting - decided to give them her full attention upon hearing Rhett display some unprecedented public affection.

They were in Siena, one of the last stops in their tour of Italy—a sojourn which Rhett had combined with a visit to an old acquaintance. He had organised this special holiday in honour of the ten-year anniversary of their reunion and so far Scarlett had obviously enjoyed the honeymoon-like journey they had undertaken.

Scarlett had thought Massimo Prunecchio was just that—an old acquaintance—but Rhett revealing his deepest feelings to him, made her decide that he was far more than that. She had only met Massimo for the first time earlier that day when Rhett introduced her to him by naming him the best sailor a pirate captain could wish for. She had been impressed with the man's impeccable manners and Mediterranean good looks; he was as swarthy as Rhett but closer to Scarlett's height, with curly black hair and a couple of the most amazing blue eyes. The fact that he made some very flattering remarks about her timeless beauty made her warm up to him considerably too. To Scarlett's relief she was for once able to understand all the things a foreigner said: although he had the most charming Italian accent, Massimo's English was clear and distinctly American.

After Rhett had told his friend to stop flirting with his wife, he explained to Scarlett that Massimo had been his companion on most of his blockading runs. It turned out that there was no Mrs Prunecchio. Next to a love for the sea, it seemed that Massimo had more things in common with Rhett: although a great admirer of the female beauty, he had never felt the need to marry, but, so he assured Scarlett, he would not have thought about it twice if he had the luck to run into her before that scoundrel Rhett Butler did. Scarlett had giggled while her husband rolled with his eyes.

She had hoped to hear Rhett make more confessions about his feelings for her during his blockading days, but the two men now seemed to be engrossed in a conversation about the best horse stable in Europe.

Many years ago, on that dreadful night that Melly died, Rhett had confessed to her that he had loved her for a long time already before she realized it. But despite a hard-fought reconciliation he never liked to give her too many details about the depth of his feelings during the different periods they had spent in each other's company ever since they met at that notorious barbecue. It still seemed to be painful to him to discuss those times; usually he ended up being moody and closed-off for days after such a chat and so Scarlett did not push him too much about the subject: some of these times held painful memories for herself too. They had come a long way since then and Scarlett thanked God every day for that, but she would not pass up the opportunity to find out from a witness just how smitten Rhett Butler had been with one Scarlett O'Hara during those early days of the Civil War.

She was about to use the full benefit of her dimples to get more information out of Massimo when her attention was drawn by a beautiful green velvet dress that one of the women in the parade was wearing. It was a dress so richly adorned with jewellery that it seemed to sparkle in the bright sunshine, even from the distance that Scarlett was standing.

Today was July 2nd, the day the traditional _Palio _horse race was held in Siena and the throngs of people, now packed in between the town's typical red and brown-bricked buildings, signified this event. Scarlett was not fond of the large crowds and earlier she had urged Rhett to take her back to their hotel room but Rhett had made arrangements to visit his old friend in his townhouse situated right at the Piazza del Campo, the shell-shaped square that contributed to making Siena one of the most beautiful towns he had ever visited. This piazza happened to be the location where the horse-race would take place and Rhett wanted to give his wife front row seats.

As Rhett had hoped, Scarlett's face lit up when she witnessed the _Corteo Storic,_ a magnificent pageant that preceded the race: men and women wearing rich costumes: faithful reconstructions of fifteenth century ceremonial garb. Of course Scarlett loved the ostentatious decorations on the women's dresses. And she shouted many times – in order to be heard over the crowds underneath them - that it was so nice of Rhett to take her to this event. And then she had not yet seen the race itself. Scarlett loved horses and she would appreciate the fact that the jockeys rode bareback and were all dressed in the appropriate colours, representing ten of the seventeen _contrade_.

And Rhett was right: when she finally witnessed the exciting race it made her jump up and down like a bubbly little girl. The race itself did not involve more than circling the Piazza del Campo three times—a thick layer of dirt had been laid on the square to protect the horse hooves—and usually it did not last more than ninety seconds. A few of the jockeys were thrown off their horses while making the treacherous turns in the piazza and some of the unmounted horses still managed to finish the race without their jockeys. In fact, that day the _Palio_ was won by a lonely horse because, according to the rules, it is the horse who represents his _contrada_ that wins, and not the jockey.

Massimo, who had witnessed the clear love between the handsome couple, handed Rhett another glass of homemade ice tea and smiled knowingly. Rhett smiled back at him, somewhat embarrassed to have been caught when looking at his wife with a face that he knew did not hide his adoration. He shrugged and his friend gave him a small nod, as if to say that any man would be helpless when in the company of such a charming creature. Rhett decided that for today he would let go of his need to keep a lid on his feelings; a remainder of the days when he had to spend hours in Scarlett's company without revealing one shred of his true feelings for her. Although there was no need for that these days, it was a hard habit to break, even ten years after the fact.

Rhett considered the special holiday a success. Moreover, he thought his wife had been a quite excellent companion all throughout. Of course there had been several instances in which he had felt like strangling her: after all, she was a culture-barbarian if ever he had seen one.

A romantic sight-seeing trip in a real Venetian gondola had been ruined by Scarlett's constant complaining about the sewer fragrance of the water. Subsequently he had not been able to enjoy his – rather expensive - espresso on the Piazza San Marco due to Scarlett's sudden aversion to pigeons. 'Flying rats', she charmingly called them in between the many squeaks she let out whenever the cheeky animals dared to come too close.

By the time they reached Florence he was already familiar with Scarlett's complete lack of interest in the many historical buildings that most of Italy's beautiful cities consisted of. It was amusing to him how she, on the other hand, could spend a long time admiring the occasional newly constructed house. He smiled gently then, humouring her. However, he felt more than a little embarrassed when his wife urged him, on one such instance, to address the locals in Italian to find out what material was used for the framework of that particular house. Then again, he had revelled in his wife's own embarrassment when confronted with one of the many muscular God-like sculptures that graced the magnificent city; the statue's pectoral muscles had not been the only thing that the artist had managed to capture in detail. Rhett should have felt irritated with his wife's childlike incapability to look past the portrayed nudity and focus on the beauty of the art itself, but he was not in the least bit annoyed; her never-ending coyness about all physical matters still charmed him endlessly.

Nevertheless, they did end up rowing in Rome when Scarlett committed sacrilege - in Rhett's eyes - by kicking off her slippers and dipping her feet in the Trevi Fountain. Admittedly, that day had been an exceptionally hot one but her behaviour had been not only unladylike, but also extremely boorish on top of it. Not for the first time during their long marriage he wondered how he – a born and bred Butler – ended up with somebody so unrefined for a wife. Of course her comments when visiting the Roman _Colloseum_ had not helped his mood either: she had asked him if Italy had been involved in a war recently and - after his denial - she had disdainfully said that if so it was time that they cleaned up the mess from the last one. At that moment Rhett wished that he had asked for a private tour because many of the other Americans in their group had giggled about Mrs. Butler's ignorance and, as always, that somehow made him feel as if he was personally responsible for that flaw in her character.

However, Italy was also the country that mastered the art of making practical items of beauty. Scarlett could never get enough of their shopping trips; many packages had been shipped back to the States already. If Rhett was honest with himself, he took pure delight in shopping for her. He always had and he always would. And, being a true gourmand, Scarlett never complained about the Italian _cucina_. Hours they would sit at their table, course after course would be sampled by Scarlett's delicious little red mouth, and meanwhile – triggered by Rhett's commanding gesture - the waiter poured the _prosecco _generously. Scarlett was always glowing by the end of the evening and usually she liked to round it off with a little glass of amaretto before he was allowed to take her to their suite.

With no distractions from her businesses or children and with everything between them more pleasant than it had ever been, Scarlett had surprised Rhett by being a compliant and insatiable lover. At times he could barely keep up with her. It was as if all of his old dreams finally came true; he felt like pinching himself regularly to make sure he was not having one of his lucid fantasies. After such nights he usually took her less charming tourist-manners in his stride.

Rhett was woken from his daydreaming by his old friend, who announced that, now that the _Palio _was over, it was time to head to his vineyard in the more rural parts of Tuscany. Rhett had rented an open carriage for the short journey and all three of them enjoyed the beautiful landscape–Tuscany's splendour even moved Scarlett. According to her it could not compare to Clayton County's scarlet beauty but it was impressive nonetheless.

Next to the vineyard Rhett's friend possessed a beautiful white and terracotta villa and Scarlett could not help but gawk at it when the carriage pulled up in the drive.

They were all hungry from the day's festivities and Massimo, who had anticipated this, told them to meet him in the dining room after they had a chance to freshen up.

Before dinner Massimo had told them that the Tuscans lived to eat instead of eat to live and Scarlett found this a rather silly notion; having suffered famine during the war, she knew only too well how food should not be thought lightly of. Massimo's table allowed Scarlett to taste many delicacies - ranging from a thick tomato soup bursting with flavour to an alcohol-spiked little dessert called _zabaglione_ and many wonderful meat and side dishes in between them. Scarlett decided that living to eat was not such a bad lifestyle after all.

'Rhett, remember that time when we came back from one of the last trips to Havana and you had not shaved or bathed in days? You looked every part the brutish pirate and you scared the living daylights out of that young Union captain that tried to enter our little vessel. 'Massimo's teeth flickered in the candlelight.

'Well, Massimo, I am sure the bullets from my shotgun scared him more, although I did not have the heart to do him actual damage. He looked so young; as if he should have still been clinging to his mother's apron than commanding such a ship. Well, at least he was in the safest place the Union army could provide at the time. It is just as well that war is terrible or we would grow fond of it, my friend,' Rhett said, his tone somewhat serious suddenly.

Scarlett listened to the two greying men's younger days' adventures while sipping the _vino bianco_ that was produced at the Prunecchio Vineyard.

'A brutish pirate', she had once believed Rhett to be just that. He had been such a mystery to her then. She remembered how dashing her still very attractive husband had looked that day he had walked into the dance at the Bazaar; looking as if he was the king that owned the place. How annoyed she had been with him then, how fondly she remembered his audaciousness now. She recalled how it felt to be held in those strong arms for the very first time and the rush she had felt when he pressed her too close to his body and told her that he wanted her to tell him that she loved him one day. She attributed it to the nice Italian wine she was drinking but suddenly she started feeling hot and dizzy. When she let out a small sigh it made Rhett lift up both of his black eyebrows and glance over to her, but he made no move to interrupt his discussion with Massimo.

However, within a few minutes, Rhett managed to gracefully inform his host that his wife and him had had a long day and, after some cordial remarks on the wonderful dishes that Massimo's staff had prepared for them, Rhett's Italian friend showed them to the guest house where they would be staying for the night. For once Rhett and Scarlett agreed that the decorations of the little house were modest but beautiful. Their bedroom did not contain much more than a large bed adorned with luxurious white linen. Rhett looked at the soft, wide bed and a small mysterious smile appeared on the edges of his mouth. He turned to Scarlett, pulled her close, gently kissed the tip of her nose, untied her bodice for her in the process and told her to make haste with her grooming. Then he gently pushed her towards the adjacent dressing room.

Scarlett was happy to find their luggage in that room and that it included the few items they bought in Siena earlier that day.

_That morning the weather had been cool but sunny, perfect to visit Siena's cathedral and do a little bit of shopping. _

'_God's Nightgown, Rhett, these cobbles will ruin my velvet slippers!' Scarlett had cried while her husband sighed with irritation._

'_Scarlett, didn't I tell you that you should wear a flat pair of slippers? With these high-heeled ones you will get stuck between Siena's stones. They will be ruined by the end of the day, not to mention that you might break that pretty little neck of yours if you trip.' _

_He rolled his eyes towards heaven for a moment. _

'_I have asked the hotel to send our luggage to the next location already, so we cannot fetch you another pair. Luckily for you, my pet, one of Italy's best shoe makers happens to live in Siena; let's go and see if we can find you a more suitable pair.'_

_Supporting her tightly with his arm, Rhett led Scarlett towards the craftsman's shop. Rhett opened the door for her, a few bells tinkled friendly, announcing their arrival. At first Scarlett could not see a thing when she entered the tiny store. The contrast between the bright day outside and the cave-like atmosphere of the store was too much for her eyes. A sharp smell drifted up her nose and she recognized it as the scent of cured leather. She simply loved that smell; it reminded her of the two men she had loved the most in her life—her father and Rhett. Her eyes looked around in the shadows and found her husband standing a little bit away, smiling at her. His white teeth gleamed in the semi-darkness and his black eyes glittered appealingly. She smiled back at him and then walked over to the shelves where several darling little slippers had been put on display. She was attracted by a red pair. She turned around to call her husband and persuade him to buy them for her, when she discovered he was no longer there. _

_He was speaking to the owner in the back of the shop. After introducing his wife Rhett asked him to get a shoebox for the red ones Scarlett had eyed earlier, besides the more practical ones he had selected for her. When she asked Rhett how he knew that she fancied those slippers he had just taken her chin in between two of his fingers and had told her that he could still read her like a book._

'Well, he might think he can predict my every move but there is one department in which I still manage to take him by surprise,' she murmured to herself. Quickly she discarded all her layers of clothing and then reached for her wrapper.

When she returned to the bedroom, Rhett had already shed his shirt and was sitting on the bed, pulling off his boots. He looked up when he heard her footsteps. She was clutching on to her wrapper, she had failed to tie the ribbon around her waist and he could see from the way the silk fabric hugged her frame that she was not wearing her nightgown underneath. Scarlett was not nearly as prudish as she once had been but hardly ever did she come to their bed in a naked – or semi-naked - state. He could feel his blood rushing to one place and he lost all control over that part of his body when he noticed the way she held her body; she had tilted her hips so that her breasts were pushed forward and her buttocks were sticking out. He let his eyes travel down her legs and to his great pleasure he noticed that she had put on the red high-heeled slippers that he had bought for her earlier.

He was glad he had now and he smiled at his wife to show her just how glad he really was.

She looked as satisfied with his reaction as a cat would after it had just been able to lick the butter dish. The thoughts she had about Rhett over dinner had left her flustered and warm. And while she breathlessly had put on her wrapper and slipped her feet into the bright-red shoes her only wish had been to make him go mad with desire for her too. And although she was still fully covered, she knew from the glister in his eyes that she had succeeded in that already. However, he made no attempt to get up and take control of the situation, something he would normally do. She looked at the large hands that were resting on his thighs and she produced a hissing sound when she took her breath in sharply.

She felt tickly all over suddenly, as if her skin was urging her to make contact with those hands. Swallowing nervously, she hesitated only a moment before she stopped clutching the wrapper between her two hands. It fell open immediately, causing Rhett to produce a strangled sound. Encouraged by this sound she moved her shoulders in a fluid motion, and while she could feel the soft summer breeze coming from the opened window touch her now naked skin, she threw her head back and closed her eyes. She expected Rhett to come and take what rightfully belonged to him but after a few moments she realized that he had not moved.

Scarlett opened her eyes and she could see that the look in his eyes had intensified but she was dismayed that the rest of his face had the same expression as when he taught her the finer tricks of a poker game – something he had started during this holiday. He was clearly challenging her, calling her bluff. She felt shy, standing in front of him, in the nude, balancing on high heels. But, upon seeing his conceited look, her more competitive side took over. She took a few steps towards the bed; swaying towards him like a queen, confident because in her mind she pretended to wear her most expensive gown.

When she stood before him, Rhett could no longer contain himself and he lifted his arms to reach for her but she stood back a bit and lifted her leg up. Then she bent her knee and pushed against the hard muscles of his chest with the point of the red shoe. She laughed exhilarated because she felt a rush of power come over her. Unfortunately this effect was ruined when she lost her balance immediately after and was dangerously close to falling onto the floor. It was Rhett and his reflexes that saved her from an injury; his hands quickly got hold of the leg dangling in midair, then he firmly gripped her hips and together they crashed into the thick covers on the bed.

Scarlett's ego was bruised and she lay in a heap on the bed, pouting, feeling everything but a temptress at that moment. But when Rhett started laughing, she had to giggle too and soon they both were laughing till the tears were streaming down their faces.

After they calmed down somewhat, Scarlett lifted one of her legs and started reaching for the slipper, fully intent to take it off.

'What are you doing, honey?' Rhett inquired, keeping her hand still by placing his own hand over it.

'Why, I am taking them off, Rhett. I can hardly go to sleep wearing them, can I?'

'Who said anything about going to sleep?' Rhett chuckled, while he sat up and lifted both her legs up.

'What are you doing, Rhett.' Scarlett said, slightly mortified because he had put her in an awkward position.

'Admiring your shoes, my love. Hmm, you were right, these are of an exceptional quality,' he murmured while he caressed the heel with his thumb. 'Yes, they are beautiful. Almost as beautiful as the woman who wears them,' he said while letting his hands slide over her calves meanwhile staring Scarlett straight in her eyes.

She turned her head away, feeling shy under his gaze and confused about the sensations she felt when Rhett caressed her new velvet slippers. She knew by now that Rhett was a creative lover and in their marriage she had engaged in activities that she was certain were not becoming for a lady but whenever he introduced something new she still felt embarrassed. Embarrassed and excruciatingly aroused. Rhett had assured her often that she had not become a fallen angel, but she could not help hearing her mother's berating voice in her head at times.

She tried to shake off these thoughts and focused again on Rhett's caresses. By now he had placed his big body in between her legs and these legs – including the still covered feet – now each dangled on one side of his trim waist. He ducked his head low and placed butterfly kisses on her stomach. She could sense the stubborn hairs of his chest grazing her in inappropriate places. She could feel herself grow hot there, just as hot as her cheeks that now were burning. When he moved up somewhat and buried his face in between her breasts, she let out a soft moan.

Yes, her mother's ever present moralizing voice often was a hindrance during her more intimate moments with Rhett, but there always came a point where she just did not care anymore. Where the joys her husband was giving her became too hard to ignore or too delicious to feel embarrassed about. By the time Rhett's exploitations reached her lips - which were quivering, longing for his kiss in the most indecent fashion - she had reached that point and beyond, so the instant his mouth touched hers, she possessively put her arms around his shoulders and hungrily claimed him for herself. She wrapped her legs around him at the same time and did not give a damn either when he swore loudly because she accidentally dug one of her heels into his buttocks.

**

The next day Massimo gave them a tour around the vineyard, which included Scarlett having to step into a large wooden tub and grind grapes underneath her feet. It was a strange feeling to trample on those fruits, and she blushed from the queer pleasure it gave her to feel them under her sole.

'Who knew feet could make you feel so indecent, Scarlett,' Rhett whispered in her ear while he helped her dry her feet off after she had stepped out of the tub. Her green eyes gave him a warning but as always she also had to giggle at his impudence.

While Massimo took the lead in guiding them back to his villa, she reached for Rhett's elbow and at same time pressed herself close to him. 'And who knew some simple footwear could make a man take leave of his senses,' she whispered in turn. Rhett looked positively shocked for a moment, before the mirth returned to his face.

'You got that wrong, Scarlett, it was not the shoe that made me lose control but the woman wearing it. And I wonder what your mother would have said if she knew how you used items of clothing to your advantage against a poor defenceless man who was incidentally already at your mercy.' They both laughed loudly after this remark causing Massimo to glance behind him and give them an amused smile.

That evening's dinner progressed in very much the same way as it had the day before. Halfway through Massimo got up to pour them both another glass of the _vino rosso_ he had chosen for today's dinner. Scarlett noticed yesterday already that Massimo served his wine from unusual ceramic wine decanters and today she felt less apprehensive of asking him about them. Unlike Rhett, Massimo was not likely to make fun of her ignorance on such matters. She was surprised when he revealed to her his passion for making all sorts of ceramics. Enthusiastically he pointed out to her the several items that decorated his dining room. Scarlett noticed a beautifully decorated fruit bowl, a few curvy candleholders and a vase whose phallus-like shape made Scarlett blush with embarrassment.

Scarlett remarked that it was a very surprising and sweet hobby for a man to have but Rhett seemed utterly bored with the course the conversation had taken. And he could barely withhold his relief when Massimo announced that Scarlett and Rhett had to entertain themselves that evening since he would be playing his weekly game of cards in the local _albergo. _For the sake of politeness he asked Rhett to join him but he knew already - before his friend declined in his most charming fashion - that he welcomed the time alone with his wife.

While the Butlers had an espresso on the veranda later that evening, Rhett did his utmost to convince his wife of 'having an early night'. Scarlett's appeal as seductress had not diminished after last night, although he could have sworn yesterday that she all but killed him with her tempting and teasing. But today he felt like a young man again and he could not wait to take her to the privacy of their guesthouse. But Scarlett somehow could not stop talking about Massimo's talent in pottery making. To make himself the centre of attention again, Rhett boasted that making a pot of clay was not that hard. He told her that this was not his first visit to Massimo's Italian home and that he had tried his hand on it once before, and rather successfully too, so he told Scarlett.

Scarlett looked at her husband's big hands; she was familiar with the tenderness that could come from those hands but somehow she could not envision Rhett in anything as delicate as creating artefacts, or needlework for that matter. He assured her that he most certainly could do both. She taunted him with it, calling him a fool and more of such endearments. So before they even finished their coffee Rhett had marched her off to the room where he knew Massimo kept his pottery-making wheel.

He asked Scarlett to take a seat on one of the wooden chairs that stood in the room and confidently started preparing everything. First of all he took off his shirt.

'Surely there is no rule that says you have to make ceramics in the nude, Rhett,' Scarlett said, snorting lightly.

'No, there is not, but in order to have the best result I need to be able to move freely.'

He neatly hung the shirt over the back of a chair and placed a bowl of water next to the wheel. Then he took out a large amount of clay from one of the other bowls and sat himself down in front of the wheel. He placed the heap of clay firmly in the centre and very slowly made the wheel turn with a pedal by his feet. Once in a while he made his hands wet and to Scarlett's amazement a perfectly round shape took form right before her eyes. She watched Rhett work, his big hands shaping the clay more and more into a cylinder-like item; his whole body seemed to be involved in his creation, she clearly saw the muscles of his chest moving in accordance with the motions of his hands. Somehow this distracted her and she was surprised when she noticed that his fingers had managed to make an opening into the figure. As if by magic he then lifted the sides of the disc and the shape of a vase was suddenly visible. She clapped her hands in excitement and she saw a smile appear on Rhett's face although he never removed his eyes from his work of art. Scarlett could see that a lock of thick black hair had fallen in front of his eyes and her hands itched to smooth it back for him but she did not dare to come close to him; afraid to destroy his masterpiece.

'Sufficiently impressed, darling?' Rhett asked at one point. Grudgingly Scarlett admitted that she was indeed in awe of his skill.

'Well, you should not be,' he said, finally looking up from the wheel. 'You of all people should know just what these hands are capable of,' he grinned.

'Rhett!' Scarlett yelled. And then she yelled his name even louder, since with one stroke of his finger he managed to make the carefully crafted shape collapse.

'What did you do that for?' she asked.

'Well, I made my point: Massimo is not the only one that can make a few ceramics. It is fairly easy, as you can see. Besides, I don't plan to decorate our Peachtree house with homemade bric-a-brac. I will leave the decorating to your refined taste, dear.'

Scarlett gave him an angry look; their home always was a sore point in her discussions with him.

'Can I have a try?' Scarlett asked.

'Are you sure you won't break the wheel. I am not even sure if Massimo appreciates us touching it.'

'Are you afraid I will outdo you, Rhett Butler?' Scarlett asked indignantly.

'Well, I actually had other plans for this evening and they did not include pottery making,' he said curtly but when he saw her pout he sighed and changed his mind.

'Take that dress off, Scarlett,' he ordered.

'Why, Rhett! If you think I will let you have your wicked way with me here in this inappropriate room, with the servants just outside the door, then…'

'Don't ruffle your feathers, my dear. I was merely concerned for your hand-made china silk dress. You don't want to ruin it now before you had a chance to poke your Atlanta friends' eyes out with it, would you now, my darling?'

'I guess not,' Scarlett mumbled. To protect her equally expensive underwear Rhett suggested that she would wear his shirt. She carefully folded up his long sleeves till above her elbow. It felt strange to be walking around in his shirt, her legs bare underneath it. Strange and positively indecent.

'What if the servants find us like this, Rhett?' she said, her eyes worriedly on the door.

'I think the servants here know better than to disturb that big American, don't you, Scarlett? Now, are you planning to give me a demonstration of your own skill or are you trying to back out of this?'

Scarlett pressed her lips together in an outraged fashion and set herself down in front of the wheel. In front of Rhett's massive body it had seemed like an easy to be controlled sort of little thing but now it was directly in front of her, it looked enormous. Rhett placed a fresh bowl of water by her side and smacked a large lump of clay on top of the wheel. He gave her instructions but Scarlett, impatient to start, did not listen to him and, with the tip of her tongue hanging out of her mouth, she started moulding the clay. She ignored Rhett's instructions about the wheel and therefore she started spinning it too soon and too fast.

So fast that most of the wet clay came off and splattered all over her white shirt and Rhett's bare chest.

Rhett swore in his regular fashion and Scarlett felt angry with him and herself for failing so miserably.

'Do you want me to teach you, Scarlett? It is really not so hard.' With hurt pride clear on her face she nodded to him in agreement.

Rhett tried to clean both him and his wife with a cloth that he had found – taking his time for a spot situated on her breast area - before he straddled behind Scarlett.

As always, Scarlett was amazed at the warmth that radiated from him. She was also very aware of his hard thighs and softer bits pressing against her backside. She felt her own nipples grow hard in response but she tried to focus on Rhett instructions anyway.

He was talking in her ear, looking over her shoulder at what she was doing, meanwhile holding her lightly by her waist. Despite the distraction this caused, Scarlett managed to make good progress under Rhett's careful instructions. She even managed to turn the cylinder into a pillar-shaped figure.

She was working with concentration and almost jumped up when Rhett tightened his hold on her waist.

'Rhett, you will make me lose my concentration! Stop that,' she said, after which he promptly tickled her sides.

She wiggled to get out of his grip.

Then one of Rhett's long fingers came into her vision and before she could do anything he made the form collapse into a sorry puddle of shapeless clay. Scarlett was about to get angry, when he pulled her close and whispered a few obscenities in her ear. She could not help but smile, feeling goose bumps erupt at the vivid image he was painting, at the same time being very aware of the solidness she now felt pressing against her lower back.

'You are just making me lose focus so that later on you can claim that you were better at this,' she said, sounding a bit out of breath but at the same time placing her hands around the heap of clay in front of her, determined to start all over.

In response, Rhett pulled her even closer to his chest and sneaked both his arms around her. He placed his large hands on hers. Scarlett did not know if it was his intention to guide her but his large hands, warm and slippery from the wet clay, slid repeatedly over the tiny bones of her hands and she found it hard to focus suddenly.

In fact a red hot yearning started bubbling up from within her and she was suddenly very aware of the fact that her own thighs were pressed against the wooden table in front of her. When she felt Rhett's hands gently massaging the slippery clay into the skin of her arms, she gave up all pretence of working on her masterpiece. Instead she leaned into his chest and laid her head against his shoulder. The sensations of his strong fingers rubbing the now oily substance into her hands and arms caused her to bite her lip, while she struggled to maintain her composure. She felt unable to speak but let out a choked little sigh and she could hear Rhett chuckle.

Infuriating man, she thought absentmindedly, while she leaned more into him.

When he nuzzled her neck and placed butterfly kisses on it, a soft moan involuntarily escaped her lips. He gently pulled her backwards and in silent agreement Scarlett turned her head upwards. His warm mouth was on hers in a second. Everything became a blur after that. Scarlett forgot her surroundings, forgot the pottery wheel, and forgot to think even. She just lay against Rhett's warm body, enjoying his kisses. Kisses of victory at first, taunting and teasing; but soon she could feel him lose control himself by the way his tongue sampled her mouth and the slight vibration she felt in the muscles of his arms.

Without warning, he interrupted their kisses and Scarlett sat helplessly, still swaying from the waves of passion that had started to overtake her. Rhett stood up and dipped the cloth into the bowl of fresh water before meticulously wiping the clay off their skins. The cool water made Scarlett shudder; Rhett noticed and grinned before he pulled her back into his arms. His kiss deepened before he lifted her off the ground. Instinctively she wrapped her legs around him, careful not to interrupt his delicious kisses.

He carried her as if she weighed no more than a feather and amazingly he did not stumble while walking through the unfamiliar room. Without hesitation he lowered her onto a wooden table whose surface was half covered with Massimo's art. Rhett let go of her lips for a moment and Scarlett glanced around her, assessing that the table left enough room for her to lie down on but before she did, she reached up and found his mouth once more. When she let her slight fingers caress the strong muscles of his back, it was Rhett's turn to groan. He dipped his head and started sampling the place between her neck and shoulders, meanwhile lifting her up once more to push her against him and make her feel his hardness. Feeling her body respond, he grabbed her buttocks possessively. She fitted easily into his wide palms and almost purred with pleasure when one of his long fingers found its way into her throbbing desire.

She pressed herself against him, making him slide deeper inside her and causing him to mutter her name in a strangled manner. She buried her own face in his black hair while letting her hips tell him how much she longed for him. He sensed her impatience but did not stop his current assault on her senses. Mad with desire and familiar with his own weaknesses, she slid a hand past the hard muscles of his abdomen. When she found her target and squeezed it firmly, his actions became hurried. He lay her down on the hard wood, ripped open her shirt – he was not in the slightest bit disturbed by the buttons that came off in the process - spread her legs and plunged into her; knowing full well that by now she was sufficiently aroused to handle him at once.

After that the only sound that could be heard were his moans, her cries and the soft tinkling of Massimo's ceramic collection; on more than one occasion his _objets d'art_ were dangerously close to toppling over because of the force of nature who was pounding against the table. But the Butler couple was oblivious to this, as they would have been oblivious to a cyclone whirling around them. They were lost in each other. Entranced in ways that each of them would have found incomprehensible some fifteen years ago.

Afterwards, Rhett covered his wife up and carried her to their guesthouse, despite the fact that his muscles were still trembling from the powerful rush she gave him earlier. Once they lay on the bed - specks of dried clay visible at random spots on their bodies - they both wondered out loud how two people could still be this mad about each other after so many years together. Privately, Rhett thought about what he said earlier that day: he had been drawn to her like a magnet, but somehow his own pull had been hard to resist for her too. Scarlett had only been too young and too blinded by her feelings for Ashley to realise why it was him she sought out when in need and not her magnificent golden boy. He pulled her closer as if he was afraid he would lose his grasp on her once more. When his wife's face turned up and he could see the adoration for him clearly on her face, he effortlessly let go of that fear.

For hours they lay in each other's arms and their mutual contentment was only interrupted by Scarlett's frantic realisation that Massimo's atelier must show visible signs of their lovemaking. Rhett assured her that he would get up early the next morning to clear it up and after that reassurance she snuggled back into his arms and sighed satisfied before falling asleep.

**

Three months later life had taken on its usual routine again and the romantic interlude in Italy was almost forgotten already when Rhett came home one evening to find the house empty. Truly empty it seemed, because there was no sound of his children bickering, nor the more discreet humming of the servants' voices. It seemed as if not even his darling wife was at home since she was not in the study, nor in any other room on the downstairs floor. Starting to worry slightly at the ominous silence, Rhett made his way up the red velvet staircase. He quickly checked their bedroom and the children's rooms before his attention was drawn by a thumping noise coming out of one of the unused guest rooms.

He called his wife's name.

'Don't come in, Rhett. I have a surprise for you!' she yelled.

He frowned, wondering what she was up to now. He had no time to come up with an answer because she told him then to step into the room but warned him to keep his eyes closed. Feeling a little bit stupid, he did what she asked, carefully holding on to the doorpost with one hand while stepping over the threshold covering his eyes with his other hand.

He was lost for words when she finally told him to open his eyes. Several items that he had once bought, but had meanwhile forgotten about, were decorating the room. They were reminders of their trip around Italy, including, as his sharp eye noticed quickly, a rather ghastly painting of Capri's harbour.

What was I thinking at the time? he mused, before his eye fell on the pottery wheel in the middle of the room. He then looked his wife up and down. He realised he was not going insane; she was wearing one of his shirts and, by the looks of it, that was all she was wearing. He shrugged involuntarily, feeling restless suddenly.

Life had not always been kind to him, Rhett decided, but the man up in the sky was doing his best to make it up to him now. Both He and his sweet wife combined.

'Do you like my surprise, Rhett? I thought we could take up pottery making?' she said, fluttering her eyelashes innocently. Then she walked over to a chaise-longue that was situated by the window.

'I hope you don't mind, Rhett, but I wanted something more comfortable than a wooden tabletop to, er, take a rest upon.' It was to her credit that she blushed at these words, but this proof of shyness was immediately contradicted by the way she bent down over the sofa, giving him a full view of her magnolia-coloured behind.

'Are the children out, Scarlett?' he asked, sounding as if something was obstructing his throat. 'Yes, they are having a sleepover. I gave the servants the night off too,' she said, her green eyes glittering mischievously.

His face cracked into a half smile.

'To be honest, Scarlett, I am not in the mood to get dirty tonight, we will leave the pottery wheel for another night.' Scarlett face immediately showed her disappointment. His smile grew wider while he walked over to her. Carefully he lowered her unto the loveseat.

'I promise that your head will be spinning instead, darling,' he whispered, before he bent over her and smothered her giggles with his kisses.

IL FINITO

**A/N: Yes, yes, the lady in question wanted me to write that particular scene from the movie Ghost featuring R&S. And the rest? Well, I love Italy obviously…**

**Escape will continue somewhere later this month.**


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